


To fall freely

by CyanideSoufflé (CupcakeGangsta)



Category: Shatter Me Series - Tahereh Mafi
Genre: All previous tags are canonical, Alpha Paris Anderson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Child Abuse, Daddy Issues, Drabble, Emotional Manipulation, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, No Incest, Non-Sexual Bondage, Omega Aaron Warner, Omega Verse, Ownership, Presenting as Omega Flashback, Scents & Smells, Sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28915545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeGangsta/pseuds/CyanideSouffl%C3%A9
Summary: Aaron Warner had prepped his entire life to become his father's weapon of war.That is, until he presented as an omega.Through sheer perseverance he still manages to become Commander of sector 45. However, the bar of losing that title is far lower than anyone would deem fair, and his Father is more than ready to retrieve it.Destroy me chapter 7, but Omegaverse and Anderson is even more of a sexist.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	To fall freely

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Soufflé is back at it again with an AU nobody asked for.  
> I wrote this because imo every fandom needs at least one a/b/o fic and Anderson is already a sexist asshole AND he's possessive of Warner so it all just fitted so nicely.

The day I presented was a family-get-together. I was eleven. It was a week after I had returned home from a wildlife survival exercise. I remember because my arm was still in a cast.

The children had been left on their own all afternoon, so it wasn’t until dinner-time that the adults came back to walk into an unexpected wall of sweet-smelling young omega pheromones.

I had been the first to present among the children, even earlier than Stephan who was older than me, so none of the others had been able to smell anything off of me.

I, on the other hand, was able to smell _everything_ all of a sudden, and it both confused and terrified me. It didn't take long for the adults to identify which one of us it was. Which one of us had presented as _an Omega._

I had started to weep before Max, one of the few childless adults attending, gently took my hand and led me away from the others.

It quickly became apparent that something was different with my presentation, however. Father had been angry. Angrier than he usually was when I cried in public.

“Why does he smell like that? So _strong”,_ my father had demanded. His nose was visibly wrinkled.

“He’s unclaimed”, Max had explained.

“Unclaimed?”, Dad had echoed, disgust in his voice. “Does that mean I’ll have to marry him off to some alpha to make him stop recking?”

I had cried harder at that.

“No, Paris", Max said. "Young Omegas are usually bound to their Alpha parent until they start to court. But you aren’t very… how do I say? _Cuddly_ with young Aaron here, are you?”

My father had scowled but hadn’t denied it. Most of the physical contact between us consisted of beats and slaps at that point. My broken arm being proof of it.

And it made sense, he and the rest of the adults would reason afterward. I had been showing signs long before I presented. All those nights I spent psyching myself up to pull the trigger by his bedside; all ending with me desperately seeking forgiveness in his arms: _A young omega's cry for physical affection_. - Not a traumatized child trying to protect his mother. -

“To claim Aaron you must cuddle more with him. Your smell in combination with the endorphins will sooth the pheromones at work inside him”, Max continued.

“I suggest you start immediately. Otherwise there might be unnecessary complications.” Then he had gestured for a side room looking out over the gardens.

It had been awkward to say the least.

My father had plucked me up, sat me down on his lap and with a hold on the back of my head had pushed my nose against his neck.

I remember the smell of his cologne with the sudden addition of his Alpha status; something I had not noticed before. It was musty, almost like sweat, but sweeter and without a trace of acidic rancidity. I was surprised that the combination of the perfume and his natural smell complimented each other into a balanced palette. Since then I've learned this is a conscious decision that takes many hours of trying different formulas.

Still, my sense of smell was heightened and I quickly became nauseous; but I didn’t dare voice this.

I don't remember how long we sat there, only that my father had been fuming. _An omega son._ The worst possible scenario.

Not even my smell; his omega child, desperate for comfort; had had any effect on him. Which I supposed spoke volumes of how estranged our relationship really was.

Eventually I fell asleep against him, worn out from my emotions as well as jetlag.

When I woke up Dad had moved me to his bedroom. Apparently I had spent the night there. But most importantly: I didn't smell anymore.

After that it became a ritual for my father to share his bed with me a few days a month. It was to make sure I was bonded to him. I found it very embarrassing, after all I was eleven years old, but to him it was the most convenient solution. After all, all he had to do was sleep. It didn't matter to him if I actually slept or laid stiff beside him, as long as I was exposed to his smell.

In hindsight, this was the least of my worries.

I thought maybe my father would stop treating me like his home-made-mercenary project after that. After all, he was a firm believer omegas were of the weaker sex. _The alpha's burden,_ as he liked to preach when he explained what his version of utopia would look like. Surely unfit to work-out, practice gunmanship and be left in the woods for weeks on end.

I was brutally disappointed. My father somehow worked me even harder than before, setting inhuman expectations I couldn't have reached even if I had been born an alpha like he wanted.

I learned to fly planes, build and defuse bombs and suture my own wounds before the age of fourteen. I never forgot I was an omega, however. Father made sure of that.

My body, from the style my hair was cut to the dosage of suppressants I was allowed once my heats started were his to decide and dictate over. The skills he taught me were only useful because he allowed them to be. If I ever protested I was being nonsensical and too immature to understand what was good for me.

It barely changed once the Reestablishment took over and my mother and I legally became his property.

I'm sure it would have stayed that way if I hadn't offered to take his place as commander of sector 45. But then again, I'm not sure it will all come crumbling down again, considering the situation I've landed myself in.

* * *

It’s the smell that wakes me up.

This smell that isn’t supposed to be here.

This smell that is supposed to be halfway across the world.

The smell of nicotine, cologne and _that_ only he can add to a room. The smell that makes me forget I’m almost twenty years old and shouldn’t need someone to tell me if I’m sad or angry or confused; because according to him I’m very often confused.

I’d take any feverish nightmare over this.

I can feel the weight of restraints around my ankles. Around my left wrist. My injured arm is confined in a sling resting on my chest. I’m not wearing a shirt.

I can’t remember what happened last time I was awake.

“Time to wake up, Aaron”, he says.

Seeing that there’s no reason for me to pretend to be unconscious I open my eyes. White ceiling. White walls. Stainless steel bed frame. A room in the hospital wing.

“I’m having a hard time making up my mind what I’m less surprised about”, he says. "The fact that you fucked everything up, or the fact that you tried covering it up by lying to me?"

His voice sounds like he's talking about an everyday problem. _What should we have for dinner Aaron? Steak or salmon? They say you should eat fish once a week._ Not like I managed to let my project escape from my base with one of my soldiers and managed to get shot in the process of trying to recapture them.

I turn my head, slowly. He's standing by the window beyond the head of the bed, so I have to crane my neck ever so slightly to look at him.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”, he asks me. He’s by the window. Black suit creating a crisp contrast against the sky that can't decide whether to be white or gray today.

I can tell he's amused. So delighted to be here and witness my downfall. So proud he was right.

I do not offer him a reply. I have no answer.

“I warned you this would happen”, he reminds me and sticks his hands in his pockets. “That you wouldn’t be able to do it.”

He pushes off against the wall, walking now. His steps sending tremors through the floor. They travel up the legs of the bed and into my bones.

 _I’m not ready for this._ A voice screams inside me. _He's here under this godforsaken roof and I need more time to prepare I can’t do this now I need air-_

“I have to admit though, you’ve subverted our expectations!”, he continues as if he doesn't notice my sudden rush of adrenaline. “No one imagined that leaving an omega in charge of an entire sector could result in such utter _fiasco.”_

He's by the bedside now. Takes a hand out of a pocket and gestures at me with his entire arm.

“I mean just look at you! _A tied down and unconscious Omega!”,_ he announces, as if reading off the back of a porn vid. Laughable. Too perverse to actually happen. Yet here I am.

He places his palm against my neck, using his thumb to lift my chin and angle my face to expose my throat. I look at the squares that make up the ceiling.

I'm trying very hard not to take too deep breaths.

“You seem to have lost all semblance of self-care, _Aaron...",_ he tuts. 

"Just think about the things they could have done to you had this door been left unguarded”, he elaborates. “An entire base filled with isolated, testosterone pumped alphas. Imagine all that pent-up frustration from having _an omega_ strutting around giving them orders; thinking he’s better than them. You wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

As if to prove a point he leans in and pushes his nose against my throat.

I shouldn’t be surprised. This is a ritual as old as the day I presented. But this isn’t another afternoon of my father coming home from work. - This, a theatric to show I can’t hide anything from him. All that I am, including my relationships, belong to him. - But today is different because today I am tied down after failing to heal from a gunshot wound _she_ gave me.

And for a terrifying moment I can’t remember if I’ve washed since I brought my arms around her and my lips touched hers and her hands snuck into my jacket to steal my gun right out of my holster. _Whether or not her scent is still on me._

When I inhale in restrained panic he uses the grip between his thumb and index finger to close my airway, effectively silencing me.

I don’t dare cough. He must feel my pulse racing as he smells my skin. I'm almost grateful though, because in this close proximity I wouldn't have been able to evade his smell.

Luckily I seem to be covered in enough grime, blood and sweat that he doesn’t detect anything he wasn’t expecting and he let’s me go. I cough gently, wheezing to collect oxygen in these lungs that, unlike the rest of my body, don’t want to see me dead just yet.

He's up pacing the room again, away from my bed. Not inches from my face filling my nose with his smell that I thought I could evade for another month.

“You’re so lucky I was notified and could make sure the room was surveilled”, he tells me. “So lucky Delalieu can think for you when it really matters.”

I blink. Confused. Does he know I disabled the cameras in her room as well? But then I remember. He was suggesting my soldiers would have raped me if they had had the chance.

“They would never defile their commander like that...”, I manage.

Yes, I am well aware that most of them hate me. I'm the Daddy's boy who was given an entire sector of my own to play pretend in despite being an Omega; while every other omega on this continent is forbidden from even enlisting as a soldier. But despite that I've actually been a good commander, _if I may say so myself._ I've been fair and even allowed the storage compounds to not be as well guarded as they should be.

But most importantly my soldiers are even more terrified of my father than I am. Because there's only one thing that causes my father, the Supreme Commander of North America, to leave his luxurious military boat in the middle of the ocean: To punish. To discipline and restore order.

And his favorite way to go about it? With torture and death.

My father sighs. "Perhaps you're right", he ponders nonchalantly. "Not that that excuse will hold much longer."

It takes me too long to realize what he's saying. Perhaps I'm dehydrated. Or his smell is just affecting me that much. Making me slow and easily manageable.

"W-what?", I say.

He chuckles. A string of pearls echoing and multiplying against these naked walls.

 _"Why_ do you think Daddy's _here,_ you silly little goose?"

I swallow. I attempt to sit up but only manage an awkward side stand with my arm still being strapped down.

"What happened has nothing to do with my sex. I'm perfectly capable of finding them, this", I say, referring to the wound in my shoulder. "...is only temporary. _You know it would be a waste of my-!"_

I'm silenced by a finger against my lips.

"Hush", he whispers.

Between the gentle force he's applying and the restrains that he has yet to undo I have nowhere to go. I feel so unbelievably small. As if the control I had diligently chipped away at for so many years was sliding off of me and onto the floor where it crept back to his shadow.

And he knows this. He smiles.

“You had your chance, Aaron, and you flunked it. Making an exception for you was controversial enough to begin with, but this? You _lied!",_ he says and his voice dips into something sharp and dangerous that makes me want to tremble. "You’ve _humiliated_ me.”

"But you're not completely useless just yet, Ron-Bon", he assures me. "You will tell me _everything._ From how they managed to escape, to how you got shot; and most importantly: _Why you were left alone with the beta girl in the first place._ But first you need a bath because you look absolutely terrible."

And I think: _This is worse than I imagined. You can still salvage something from a crumbled building. This though, being demolished from the ground up with a link of explosives. I’m free-falling._

_Demoted, a failure, untrustworthy, injured, unreliable,_ **_omegan._ **

_I’m not sure I will recover once I hit the ground. Because I know when I do he’ll be there to chain me down._

So I just nod. After all, a bath sounds nice and I want to get out of these restraints. I also know Father likes the obedient omega much better than the kicking and screaming one.

“Very good”, he praises.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Could you tell my overly affectionate Wiping the slate-Anderson was shining through? Me too.


End file.
